Missing You
by RamenMartinez
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John finally updates his blog. Some other things happen...apologies for some short chapters; I'm working on that
1. Chapter 1

John sighed as he sat down at his laptop. He felt a rush of nostalgia as he logged in and opened a new document.

_It's been so long since I've updated this_, John typed. _I almost forgot how to for a moment. Lately, I've been feeling more down than usual. I suppose the anniversary threw me off. I can't stress how much I've missed him or how long it's been since I've felt happy. Who would've guessed I'd turn out to be so dependent on him? I don't know if anybody out there has actually been checking for updates(I know he would've, if he was out there). Maybe Ella has, or Harry. _

John paused and closed his eyes. He put his head in his hands and tried to calm down.

_I still can't bring myself to doubt him. Anyone who had ever met Sherlock should know better than to believe those lies that have been printed. He was my friend...and I'll always believe in him._

After saving the document and posting it, John closed his laptop. He walked to the kitchen and started to make tea...enough for two cups. Simply a force of habit. John heard his phone vibrate and knew he had to at least look to see who it was. It was only a text message.

_Miss me?  
__-SH_


	2. Chapter 2

John gasped and jumped back from his phone. Quickly clenching his eyes shut, he took 3 deep breaths and counted to ten. _This is ridiculous. It's obviously just someone playing a joke on you. He was dead. You saw him jump, you saw the grave. _

John opened his eyes and let himself hope, believe, think for a moment. What if Sherlock had pulled the wool over his eyes again? He was a genius after all. John shook his head and banished the thought from his mind. _Not even Sherlock could do that. Not even Sherlock could jump from a building and fake his own death._

John typed a text back to the jokester on the other side. _Who is this and how did you get this number? Hasn't anyone told you not to disrespect the dead?_

John walked away, satisfied with how he had responded. The tea kettle started to whistle, and John poured himself a cup.

_I want tea._

-SH


	3. Chapter 3

Feeling more than a little bit ridiculous, John had to stop and think. _What if this is really Sherlock? Yes, I saw him jump, and yes, I've been to his grave. But, maybe he pulled it off. The great Sherlock Holmes..._

John typed a response and pressed send. _How can I know this is really Sherlock? Prove it._

_When we met, I said, "I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Iraq or Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him—possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" And then introduced myself. That's what I said. Word for word._

_-SH_

A moment later, John's phone vibrated again.

_Tea's getting cold, John. Should I wait to be invited in, or am I allowed to act like I live there?_

_-SH_


	4. Chapter 4

John stood still for a moment, frozen while reading and rereading the last text several times. Allowing himself to hope, John rushed downstairs and flung open the door. Nobody was at his door. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, John looked from right to left frantically. He didn't want to admit it, but he was desperate to see any glimpse of Sherlock. John closed the door behind him and walked across the street in a dream-like trance.

_Foolish of me to even believe this imposter for a second,_ John thought to himself. _Though how he knew what Sherlock's first words to me, completely exact, I wish I knew._

John didn't want to go back to 221B so soon. He almost couldn't bear to be all alone in that empty flat. It was quiet without Sherlock, his ramblings as though John could follow his train of thought. John missed his bizarre experiments, and he would gladly welcome a random body part in the refridgerator. After reminiscing for about half an hour, John decided he'd better go home. _Wouldn't want to worry Mrs. Hudson._

As John began the trek up the stairs, he couldn't help but feel on the verge of a breakdown. Pausing for a moment before opening the door, John felt the urge to just...leave. To never come back to this place haunted with memories. Suddenly, the door opened from the inside.

"It didn't seem as though you would be coming inside any time soon, John."


	5. Chapter 5

John stayed frozen, just staring at the world's only consulting detective. After a few moments of silence, John simply walked in and sat in his chair. Sherlock, unsure of what to do, shut the door and stood by John.

"John?"

John looked up suddenly. He stared at the man who had jumped off a building. _Is he really here? _John thought. He stood up and tilted his head up to look into Sherlock's eyes.

"John? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"Sherlock?" John asked quietly, still not believing the detective was really there in front of him.

Sherlock looked at the army doctor whose eyes began to water. Sherlock allowed one of his rare little smirks, as if to make the situation less tense and less awkward. John looked down, breaking the eye contact. Sherlock felt a feeling of…he didn't know what. Suddenly, John brought his fist up to Sherlock's chin. Sherlock went down like a ton of bricks and crumpled to the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

John made a movement like he was going to punch Sherlock, but Sherlock quickly dodged.

"John, calm down," Sherlock said, his voice faintly wavering. "Let's just sit down and talk about this."

"I can't sit down and talk reasonably with a man who acted like he was dead, Sherlock!" John yelled while pacing back and forth. "Where the hell have you been? And now you just pop up out of nowhere and expect me to let you back into my life?"

John stopped suddenly and sat down with his face in his hands. Sherlock sat next to him, unsure of what to do.

"John, don't you think there was a reason I left?" Sherlock asked. "Obviously, I would never just leave you like this."

John scoffed and said, "Obviously."

Sherlock put his hand on John's shoulder and said, "Obviously, John."

John looked up and stared into Sherlock's eyes. Suddenly, he leaned in.


	7. Chapter 7

_Is this really happening?_ thought Sherlock.

John leaned in...and hugged Sherlock. He began to quietly cry into Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock..." said John. "What the hell happened?"

Sherlock hugged John back awkwardly. "While I welcome the embrace, John," Sherlock started. "I don't think you're in the right state of mind for me to tell you the entire story truthfully." _Foolish of me to think he would be leaning in to kiss me_, Sherlock thought. _I can't believe even after all this time that he still dulls my senses so much. _

John had left the now-awkward embrace and looked at the consulting detective whom he had missed for so long. Sherlock got up from where they were sitting and proceeded towards his bedroom.

_Should I let him drag me back into this?_ John thought. _He was gone for over a year, and now he's just shown up out of nowhere. He seems a little different though...Sherlock but a little bit reserved. _

John's thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise from the kitchen. Shaking his head, John watched Sherlock walk out of the kitchen as if he was gliding across the floor. Offering him a small wary smile, John observed Sherlock. Thinner than usual, Sherlock sat back down on the couch. John relaxed a little bit and smiled to himself. _Maybe I simply imagined it. I doubt Sherlock is even capabale of changing_, John thought, unaware that at the same moment, Sherlock was thinking to himself as well.

_I didn't think it was possible_, thought Sherlock. _If it was anyone, it'd be John though._


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock sat in silence on the couch, contemplating the return to his old life with John. _This is the only thing that has ever confused me,_ thought Sherlock. _Whenever John is concerned, things take a turn for the more...emotional. Who'd have ever thought I, of all people, would have feelings for John? _Pausing in his train of thought, Sherlock watched as John walked past in one of his awful jumpers. _Practically everybody has thought it at some point...I highly doubt that John has ever thought about it. _

John was in the kitchen and started to make tea. He thought about asking Sherlock if he wanted a cup, but John already knew that Sherlock wouldn't respond and would just expect one. _Maybe this is a mistake,_ John thought. _I never quite got used to being all alone here, but for him to just show up and not fully explain himself and his actions. God, I missed him so much._ John was awakened from his thoughts as the tea kettle began to whistle. Pouring tea into two cups, John heard movement coming from the adjacent room. _A little strange to hear movements here after the silence of just me, _John thought.

"Sherlock, don't worry," John said a little off-handedly. "I'm already pouring you a cup."

Sherlock didn't respond but simply sat down at the table. John walked over and set the cup in front of Sherlock. Before John could walk away, Sherlock put his hand on John's to stop him from moving. John looked at the younger man with surprise.

_What is he doing?_ John thought.

_If I'm going to go through with this, I need to do it now before I lose the little faith I've got in my reasoning_, thought Sherlock. Before John could open his mouth to question the consulting detective's motive, Sherlock stood up and leaned down. John's eyes opened wide in surprise as Sherlock's lips pressed against his own.


	9. Chapter 9

John let his eyes close as he lost himself in Sherlock's kiss. There was an eagerness radiating from both of them, a feeling that both needed the other. John let his hands run through Sherlock's dark curls as he kissed harder and more urgently.

"I missed you so much," John whispered in between kisses. "I'm sorry I punched you, Sherlock."

Sherlock only heard bits and pieces of John's sentences. _God, it's just like I imagined,_ Sherlock thought. _Why on earth didn't either one of us do this sooner?_ Sherlock knew he needed to stop before-

"Ow!" John said loudly and pulled away.

Sherlock took this moment to take a few steps and a breath to put some space between the two. John looked at the taller man in surprise and shock holding his bottom lip.

"What was that, Sherlock?" said John awaiting a response.

Sherlock turned away and felt...embarrassed. "Perhaps I got caught up in the moment." Risking a glance towards John, Sherlock saw he had a smirk on his face. "I don't see what's so entertaining about that, John," Sherlock remarked but couldn't hide a small smile as well.

John walked towards the living room, grabbing Sherlock's wrist and halfway dragging him. Sherlock didn't know quite how to react and was still confused as to what John's reaction meant. _Is he amused? Or am I about to get a talking-to? I've actually missed those. _

John sat down and motioned for Sherlock to sit next to him. "So clearly we need to discuss things," John loooked expectantly at Sherlock.

"Well, John," Sherlock began.

Cutting him off, John said a little sharply, "Don't. There are things you need to tell me and if you can't tell me them, then maybe things can't go back to how they used to be." Sherlock looked a little taken aback, unaccustomed to John being so decisive about things.

"Well, then. John, since you've thought this out, tell me where to begin," Sherlock said trying not to show his thoughts on his face. _Has he changed a little?_

"Oh," John said surprised that Sherlock went along with his choices so easily. "First things first, Sherlock. Where the hell have you been all this time?"


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock sighed and ran his hands through his dark hair. "Fair enough, John," Sherlock said a little wearily. "I suppose I should start on the roof. It was Moriarty...obviously. He gave me an ultimatum, one that even I couldn't escape in the limited amount of time. He had hitmen, John. If I killed him or tried to escape, then they would've killed you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade."

Pausing here to gauge his partner-in-crime's reaction, Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Before I could begin to attempt to convince him otherwise, Moriarty shot himself," Sherlock said once again looking away from John. "I knew I had only a limited amount of time before one of you would be killed, so I took a chance and called you. I was fully aware of how loyal of a person you are, John. A trait that I...happen to appreciate about you, but sometimes is misappropriated. However, I knew that I had to try and persuade you to believe I was a fraud. Even if and when you didn't believe me, I knew that the stories would get out into the public somehow.

I told you I was a fraud, and before I could even begin to lie to you again, which actually pained me more than I had thought possible, I had to jump. While on the edge, I calculated my landing position and managed to land so I would only suffer a few mild injuries. It killed me inside to know that you thought I was dead, John, but I had to make you believe that I was truly dead."

Sherlock stopped his story short and looked at John. His face was buried in his hands and Sherlock moved closer to where John sat. Leaning into him, John laid his head on Sherlock's chest. Listening to his heart beating, John closed his eyes. Lightly kissing him on the head, Sherlock whispered, "I'm not going to leave you again, John."


	11. Chapter 11

sorry it's been a while, but I had finals!

* * *

When he first opened his eyes, John was thoroughly confused. _Is Sherlock really back?_ Replaying last night's events in his mind, John realized Sherlock had laid a blanket over him. He attempted to run his hands through his shortly cut hair and stood up. John wasn't really sure what to do now that Sherlock was back. _If he wasn't here, I doubt I'd even be out of bed now, _John thought. _I guess I'll go and...clean up...or something._

Making his way away from the main room, John crept towards his room but stopped at Sherlock's door. It had been quite some time since anybody had been in there. John remembered how he himself had let no one in after Sherlock's...death. _God, I was so determined to preserve it, to leave it just as intact as he had. _John wasn't sure what had made him stop here nor was he sure of what was keeping him glued to the spot. He was curious as to what lay on the other side of this door, but John had had plenty of chances, a plethora of them.

John could distinctly hear the sound of Sherlock moving around. _What the hell could he be doing already? Not even a full 24 hours and already he's settling back into his routine._ John stood as still as an angel statue, but then he shook himself out of his semi trance. _I'm just being ridiculous_, John thought. _Just because we had...a moment last night doesn't mean that each of us aren't entitled to our privacy. Whatever he's doing behind that door is his business and only becomes my business if and when he decides to tell me._

"John?" Sherlock's voice called out from inside his room.

John was unsure of how to react and after a few seconds of silence, responded. "Yeah, Sherlock?"

"Whenever you're done contemplating whatever it is you're contemplating, feel free to come in."


	12. Chapter 12

_How could I be so stupid?_ John wondered. _Of course Sherlock would've heard me. He's Sherlock for God's sake. _He knew that the only option was to walk into his room...obviously. Pushing the door open, John was semi shocked to find Sherlock sitting on the edge of his bed as if waiting patiently.

"That took a shorter amount of time than I had originally thought, John," Sherlock remarked. "Before, I thought that it would take you at least 15 minutes before you'd make up your mind."

"Well," John began. "It's been a while since you've been around me and my decision making skills, hasn't it?" John knew that it was a low blow of sorts, and if he didn't know before, the look in Sherlock's eyes was clear enough.

"So is there a reason behind your being here, John?" The sudden coldness in Sherlock's voice made it clear that John's remark had hurt him. "Because if it's to remind me of how long I was gone, no one knows that better than I. I don't need reminding of any kind."

John sighed and sat down next to Sherlock. "So you've said." He gently laid his hand on top of Sherlock's. "Don't misunderstand me; I'm glad you're back. That doesn't change the fact that you were gone. Just because you're here now and you say you aren't going to leave again, that doesn't erase it. It hurt, Sherlock. It hurt so much without you here. Knowing, thinking that you were dead and I would never see you in person again. It brought nightmares, old and new ones."

Sherlock sat silently, not moving a muscle until John was done. Sherlock was stunned to feel tears in his eyes. He hadn't cried or even teared up like this since he was a child. Looking over at John, Sherlock stared at the army doctor's profile. "John," Sherlock began and paused to gather his thoughts. "It hurt me too. I knew that it was going to affect you, but don't think that it didn't have some impact on me as well. For the longest time, I was alone. Alone mentally, emotionally, almost always alone physically with the exception of Mrs. Hudson and during cases. But when you showed up...it was like having an equal finally. The closest I had ever come was Mycroft and on a good day, Lestrade. If I am to be completely honest, I was unsure of how to act. I think that when it comes to you, my mind is...impaired in a way."

Feeling satisfied that he had said all he had wanted to, Sherlock stopped. _His hand feels steady. _thought Sherlock. _Firm, but still soft._ John was lost in his own thoughts for a minute or two. After those few minutes of silence, John leaned his head lightly on Sherlock's shoulder.

* * *

Please review or something of the sort! It's greatly appreciated when people do that sort of thing!


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock awoke suddenly. _A nightmare, _thought Sherlock. _Like a child. For god's sake, a nightmare. _Rising from his bed, the consulting detective simply went through the motions similar to that of the average person. _Stretch, robe, shoes of some sort. John does these things every morning, a force of habit to him by now. _He distinctly heard sounds of bustling about in the kitchen. _Two people based on the amount of noise._ Sherlock decided to wait until whoever was there had stopped. Despite how he cared for her, Sherlock hoped that it wasn't Mrs. Hudson and wished that John had had the sense to not inform her of his return to 221B.

"Sherlock?" called a familiar voice from the kitchen.

Sighing as he left the walls of his bedroom behind, Sherlock walked into the kitchen to find, not Mrs. Hudson, but Mycroft. "Of all the people you could call, John," Sherlock said with an emotionless voice. John was sitting at the table, cup of tea in hand. Mycroft was standing still with a somewhat sort of smirk that seemed insincere and fake.

"I didn't call him, Sherlock," John said wearily. "He showed up this morning, and by showed up, I mean I woke up, went to the kitchen and there he was. Surprised it took him this long to show up."

"Well, I thought I might give you two a bit of time to...catch up and whatnot," Mycroft said knowingly, glancing at the two men. "However, two days is time enough."

"What are you on about now, Mycroft?" John asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Before Mycroft could answer, Sherlock began to talk. "Something's happened, hasn't it?" For once really looking at his older brother, Sherlock noticed fully his appearance. _Clothes are wrinkled, eyes are bloodshot, slightly red with bags underneath, skin paler than usual._ Sherlock let his mind drink in Mycroft's appearance as John and his brother waited for approximately five seconds before Sherlock returned to the real world. "Someone's missing, yes?"

Mycroft allowed himself a tight, thin lipped smile. "Of course. The great Sherlock Holmes is back in town, and on the same day, someone goes missing. Perhaps a mere coincidence, but I doubt it."

John looked at the brothers, so different and unaware of how similar they really were. "So are either of you going to actually say who it is?" John knew that both of them were aware of who it was, but that didn't mean John was in the know. As usual, he was quite out of the loop.

"I didn't know that anybody else knew she was alive," Sherlock said, casually ignoring his flatmate's reasonable question.

"Well, I suppose it was a bit hard for you to keep tabs on her while you were...gone," Mycroft remarked with a twinge of iciness in his voice.

Slowly catching up, John posed another question as he finally understood who the Holmes brothers were talking about. "Her? Not...no it couldn't be. Isn't she...I mean, I thought she was..." He trailed off as Sherlock and Mycroft finally took notice of him still in the room.

Mycroft seemed to genuinely smile this time, at how John had finally caught on. "Of course, Dr. Watson. Who else would it be? None other than the infamous Irene Adler."


	14. Chapter 14

Mycroft had been gone for nearly an hour now, and Sherlock had shut himself off in his room. John was only mildly surprised and a little hurt. _He did have a certain bond to her,_ John thought. _Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me though. _John was sitting at his laptop, looking at nothing except for a dark screen. He had thought on some level that Sherlock would get distracted at some point, but he hadn't thought it'd be so soon and so easily.

John opened his laptop and started typing in a new document. _So, whoever's out there, I suppose you might want to know that Sherlock's back. He showed up out of the blue and quite a few stuff has happened since then. This is the most that has happened to me since...before he left. I know that Sherlock will go back and read this when he has the time or when he leaves his room again, but I feel that something isn't right (more so than what I already know is wrong). _

_Why would he show up out of the blue and decide to come back to the flat, come back to this life? It doesn't make any sense to me at all. I wonder whether or not Sherlock knows what he's doing or if he's just playing it by ear. Honestly, a part of me wants Sherlock to just stay here with me. The way he's been acting these past few days has been really confusing, and I don't think either of us expected it to be this confusing to us. Funny how everybody else expected it to happen...maybe not the confusion part of it._

John backspaced hastily, erasing half of what he had typed. He knew he couldn't just out his feelings out there. How could he when he could barely show Sherlock how he had felt? Neither of them had said plain and simple how they felt about each other and what they really wanted from each other. Shaking himself out of his change of thought, John started typing again.

_He really surprised me, when we kissed, I mean. I had always imagined it, his lips pressing against mine, but I never truly thought that he would initiate a kiss. He isn't exactly the type to show affection by actual interactions. I've come to terms with that and I've come to terms with the thought that Sherlock would never feel the same way I feel for him. Kind of foolish of me to think that I actually knew him well enoough for him not to surprise me anymore. There are so many layers to him, from cold and a little cynic to kind and caring. I don't think anyone knows everything about him, and I admire anyone who tries to understand him. _

John ran his fingers carelessly and aimlessly across the keyboard, not really sure of what he had to say anymore. He didn't plan to publish anything after the first half of this document, but it was a good way for him to get his thoughts down and out of his head. John had done that a lot when Sherlock was gone, and even with him here and back in 221B, John was simply a man of habit for the most part.

_I would be lying if I'd say that I didn't want to kiss him again,_ John typed. _Along with being extraordinary and amazing at everything else he does, Sherlock really knows how to kiss...despite being an arse sometimes. But that's what it is with him; you either love all of him or hate all of him. And that's the bottom line, I suppose. I, John Watson, truly and completely love all of Sherlock Holmes' parts. The good and the bad._

"Do you really mean that, John?" Sherlock was standing directly behind John's chair.

John looked up suddenly and was surprised that he didn't hear Sherlock at all. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Sherlock allowed a small smile but his eyes gave away how happy he truly was. "I do too, you know?"

John looked down from the younger man's eyes. "You do what?"

"I love you too, John." Sherlock leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to John's, knowing full well that he most likely would not allow the kiss to remain light.

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Sorry for taking so long to update! So I tried to write a little longer this time! Let me know what you think! And before anybody asks, I will make my way back to Irene Adler!


	15. Chapter 15

Unfortunately, John pulled away from the kiss before Sherlock let it go further.

"What's wrong, John?" Sherlock asked. "I apologized for biting your lip before and if you were uncomfortable in any way, I won't do it ever again."

John looked at the man he had missed for so long. His dark eyes were wide and almost looked scared of what John might say. "No, no. You did apologize for that, and if I'm being honest, I liked it. It's just that..." His voice trailed off.

Sherlock put his hand over John's. "Whatever's wrong, you can tell me. I know that things are slightly different than they were before, John, but I'm going to do my best to restore what we had before."

"That's just it, Sherlock," John started, finally finding his voice and train of thought again. "I want it to be different between us, not completely different of course, but obviously we aren't going to have the exact same relationship we did before, and even if that were an option, I wouldn't want us to." Pausing here for breath, John looked at Sherlock's face. Thin, defined, perfect in John's eyes.

John looked down from Sherlock's all-seeing eyes. _God, all he has to do is look at me and I'd do anything he asked_, John thought to himself. _I'm a soldier, why does he affect me like this?_

Sherlock had yet to speak since John's outburst, and it was clear he was lost in his own thoughts. _How could I be so stupid? Of course John wouldn't want things to be the same as they were before. I don't either. I want him to know that I'm his, but..._

John watched Sherlock from the corner of his eyes, knowing that Sherlock was most likely doing the exact same thing. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't feel obligated to do anything for me, all right? I mean, if you don't feel that it's appropriate or something else is wrong, then by all means, don't do me any favors," John stated quietly. _Just don't leave me again_, he added in his mind. John knew he couldn't deal with it if Sherlock left him again; he had barely made it out alive the last time.

"John," Sherlock's voice was neutral as if talking to Lestrade or Molly. "Trust me when I say that I will not be doing any favors for you should we...continue this." It was obvious to Sherlock that John would be getting the short end of the stick in the relationship. _Irritating, annoying, know it all, why on earth would John even look twice at me? _"John, it's quite clear that you haven't thought this through."

"What makes you say that I haven't thought it through?" John's voice wavered over anger and hurt. "I've thought it through plenty of times, Sherlock. Even more so while you weren't here. I had plenty of time to think everything through and if there was any doubt in me, I wouldn't be here right now, would I?"

Sherlock listened and watched John, noting the way his eyes changed with each emotion. "John, I'm only saying that I doubt you have thought about what you would get out of this...relationship. You'd be giving me a plethora of things, but what do I even have to give in return? My slightly obnoxious traits? Or perhaps you prefer my bluntness?" Sherlock decided to stop after two examples instead of continuing down the list of his flaws he had thought of.

John sat there silently, observing Sherlock's profile and the way his hand seemed to belong in John's. "Sherlock," John said slightly shocked. "How could you even think that? For such a genius, you really are an idiot sometimes." John inched closer to Sherlock. "You are amazing, literally in every way. From your brains to your looks to even your mannerisms."

Sherlock stared back at the older man and saw in his eyes that he truly meant it. John had now closed the space between the two and saw the window of opportunity to start the kiss up again. John let his hands run through Sherlock's hair and admired his halo of dark curls while taking advantage of his excellent kissing skills.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. He finally had John where he wanted him, and even for this short amount of time, Sherlock allowed himself to forget the outside world and its problems only he could solve. For now, John was the only thing that mattered. _Maybe he's the only thing that should ever matter._

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it's been a minute since I last updated, and I know I said I'd get back to Irene Adler, but today I really just wanted to write about John and Sherlock again. Please review or follow or something...Thanks to everybody who has reviewed(except CatnissEverdeen -_-) and everybody who has followed or favorited! I'll try to write some more and update faster!


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock found that it was slightly difficult for him to fully focus on Irene Adler. Of course the two had had a certain connection, if you will, but since his return to 221B, all he wanted to deal with was John. It had been a little more than surprising to Sherlock how much he had truly missed John while he had been...away. He knew that for her to go missing like this was out of character for her. She had always wanted someone to know where she was, even while she was supposed to be in hiding. She craved the attention, the feeling that someone was looking for her. There was a chance that she was merely bored and wanted someone to chase after her. The trouble here was figuring out whether or not this was one of her little games or something more serious.

To be frank, Sherlock found he didn't really care. "John?" He called out from his room and hear his voice ring throughout the flat. John had left earlier and of course Sherlock had known that. But that didn't stop Sherlock from calling for him anyway.

When he was gone, he would call for John all the time, knowing John would never hear him and never come to his aid. That was what hurt him the most, made him feel the most human he had felt in a long time. To put it simply, John made Sherlock...better. Without John, Sherlock had felt rather robotic, not unlike those Cybermen from that silly little show John had made him watch so long ago.

Sherlock felt resentment for it at first. He had gone nearly all his time needing no one else, not even Mycroft. Least of all Mycroft. When Mike had brought John to the morgue the first time they met, Sherlock refused to admit that John would be any different from the other tiring, boring people who couldn't think. John had proved him wrong.

_Rather fond of this one, dependent on him in fact. _ Sherlock was a little afraid to admit it. John had changed him, not completely but enough for it to show clearly. Irene Adler hit the nail on the head when they first met. _Somebody loves you_...

_And I love him right back. Such a strange feeling, love. _

He heard the door open and expected John to call his name. Not hearing anything, Sherlock wandered into the living room. "That took longer than I had expected, John. Did you happen to get in a fight with a machine again?"

"No actually. I kind of...ran into someone who wanted to see you, Sherlock." John was standing by none other than the Dominatrix herself.

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This one's a little shorter than the past two or three chapters have been, but I'm back on the dominatrix now, so there's that!


	17. Chapter 17

"Nice to see you two reunited again," Irene Adler remarked with a smirk. "What'd I tell you, Sherlock?" She crossed the room and sat on a chair.

John walked up to Sherlock. "I was out and she came out of nowhere. She all but held a gun to neck and ordered me to bring her here." Sherlock was painfully aware of how John rested his hand on Sherlock's arm. And of the Dominatrix's eyes burning a hole in his face.

"So what brings you here, Miss Adler?" Sherlock allowed himself to grab and lightly squeeze John's hand before he looked at the semi unwelcome visitor.

"Miss Adler? Hmm, even after our short...acquaintance, I've trained you well, haven't I?" Irene's eyes lit up as she looked Sherlock up and down. Here in front of him, she was reminded of old...feelings. "Anyway, I'm surprised you haven't even figured it out yet."

"Figured what out? Spare me the stories. I've had more pressing matters than worrying about what comes next in your little games," Sherlock snapped making her face slightly waver.

"Maybe I haven't trained you as well as I thought. That was rather rude; my feelings may even be hurt," she said trying to hide the frightened, desperate feeling. "It's not a game, Mr. Holmes. Has being away affected your brain? I thought the clues were blatantly obvious and clearly he thought you'd think the same." She glanced at John who looked as confused as she imagined Sherlock felt.

"Either tell us who you're talking about or get out," Sherlock said. He took note of the way her face had changed from when she walked in confidantly. She had looked confidant, like she was certain Sherlock had figured it out already. After each time she spoke, her face grew more and more worried. Sherlock couldn't help but think she should be worried because for once he hadn't a clue. "Who are you talking about?"

She got up and looked out the window as if worried someone was keeping an eye on them. She turned around sharply, her face looking more worn in than ever. "Who else would it be?" BeforeJohn or Sherlock knew what was happening, gunshots rang out.

* * *

sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger!


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock threw John to the ground as the windows shattered. He tried to pull Irene away from the window before it was too late, but Sherlock knew better than to hope. The people who were after them would be better marksmen than that. Sherlock heard John's voice call for him distantly, but he knew that John would be safe. That was the most important thing to Sherlock and now knowing it was accomplished, he could move on.

She fell to the ground, her body crumpled and deflated. Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. He couldn't help noticing that her body was limp and already felt distinctly colder than before.

"Sherlock!" John's voice called to him, and despite his need and desire to go to his side, Sherlock knew it was dangerous for him to go over there, let alone drag Irene Adler's dangerously limp body with him.

"Stay over there, John!" The gun shots continuously rang out and seemed like they were never going to stop. "I'll be over there as soon as I can!"

Sherlock checked the Dominatrix's pulse. There was a faint beat, but Sherlock already knew that. She had a gun shot wound in her arm and one on the side of her stomach. Sherlock knew how to slow down the blood flow, but he could only manage for so long before the effort would prove to be fruitless. He couldn't help but think that Irene would be better off if it was John over here with her instead of him.

The gun shots finally stopped ringing in the air. The windows were gone, blasted to pieces, not irreparable but for the moment not an issue to dwell on. Sherlock carried Irene over to where John was, not wanting to risk John himself to rush to him. "She's lost a lot of blood and is still losing a lot, John. I'm not sure if we can risk leaving the flat right now, so if there's anything you can do to slow this down, I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

John started to examine her, even though he himself doubted what there was he could do. Sherlock went to the window to try and figure out who could've done this. He had one man in mind, but that seemed impossible. Then again, Sherlock himself had only just come back from the dead. If he was right, Sherlock knew that he wouldn't be able to resist showing who he was for the rest of the world to see. That man could only wait so long before taking off his mask to reveal a crown.


	19. Chapter 19

John could tell that there was something Sherlock wasn't telling him, something he was hiding. Part of John didn't want to care and just want to be overjoyed and relieved that Sherlock was back. The other part of him wanted to punch Sherlock again. John knew that it was naive of him to even want to know everything about Sherlock and to expect Sherlock to tell John everything he knew, but that didn't stop John from wanting to know. It had been a week since Miss Adler's...accident, and there was a slight distance between Sherlock and John. Irene was still in the hospital, but the doctors there expected her to make almost a full recovery. She wouldn't be the same, and John knew that, but any recovery was better than none.

Over the past few days, Sherlock had been spending less and less time with John, and John couldn't help but compare it to the days when Sherlock was gone. It brought back awful memories that John didn't ever want to think about. He wanted to do something about it, confront Sherlock or something, but every time he decided to try to talk to Sherlock, he backed out.

"John?" Sherlock's voice pulled John out of his thoughts. He hadn't noticed Sherlock walk in, but seeing him standing there reminded John of all the hidden thoughts he had had before.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John half hated himself for the hope that he heard in his voice. If only he could hold it back. Sherlock sat down next to him, and John couldn't hold back the feelings of self consciousness. Sherlock looked down and John admired his profile.

"I'm unsure of how to word this, John..." Sherlock's voice trailed off.

"How to word what?" John didn't want to pressure Sherlock into telling him whatever it was he finally was going to share, but John just wanted to know something, anything.

Sherlock, still avoiding looking into John's eyes, didn't respond. "I...have very strong feelings for you, John. I'd go as far as to say that I actually love you."


	20. Chapter 20

"You...love me?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock looked up at him, eyes open slightly more than usual. "Obviously. How could I not, John?" John looked down, but Sherlock lifted his head back up, guiding him to look at his face. "I've been...dealing with things, John, but I never stopped loving you. I left you, and I know that hurt you because it hurt me too, but I would never have left you if it wasn't imperative that I do so."

As Sherlock talked, John couldn't help but feel very aware of Sherlock's touch on the side of his face. _God, he's so close to me. _"Why did you leave then, Sherlock? Because I've been waiting for you to tell me since you got back, and I've given you space and I've been patient, but if you can't even tell me, how am I supposed to believe you?" John hated himself for being so irrational when it came to Sherlock, but it was time to put his foot down.

Sherlock took his hand off John's cheek, instead holding his hand. "John, they were after you. Moriarty's men. They were going to come after you, after anybody that they considered me to have a connection with. If I didn't leave you, then they were going to kill us all, but you first." He took a deep breath before continuing. "When I left, I left to make sure that nobody was going to go after anybody. I couldn't come back until I was absolutely sure that you were safe. How was I supposed to if there was even a little suspicion that another henchman would return?"

"Sherlock," John started.

"John, believe me. I would have stayed if I could have."

"Of course I believe you, Sherlock," John's voice sounded sad. He had assumed that Sherlock had left for a good reason, but he hadn't had imagined it was for that.

Sherlock looked up at John and gave a weak smile. He leaned into John and their lips met. It began soft, light at first. Soon, the kisses became more intense, more passionate. They needed each other and depended on each other. They balanced each other out, complimented each other's personalities. John let his hands rest on Sherlock's hips as he let his mouth open slightly, allowing their tongues to meet. Sherlock leaned in closer, trying to keep a handle on himself. Before he knew it, he lightly nipped at John's lips again, but this time, John reacted in a different way.

John pulled Sherlock's hips closer to him, so that there was barely any room between the two of them. Sherlock let his hands wander, and it was clear where this was headed. "Do you want to move?" Sherlock whispered. John nodded rather urgently. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and led him to the bedroom, pausing at the door.

"Sherlock," John said slightly out of breath, looking up at the world's only consulting detective. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sherlock responded by pressing against John as he kissed him again. John let out a breathy chuckle as the two proceeded to go into Sherlock's bedroom.

* * *

whoa it's been a while since I've updated this one! My sincere apologies to anybody who may have been waiting on me! I'm not completely sure if I want to show any more to their relationship if you know what I mean, wink wink. but let me know if you think I should or if I shouldn't or whatever!


	21. Chapter 21

John woke up, lying in Sherlock's bed. The night before flooded into his senses and memory. After Sherlock said he loved him, everything had seemed to happen so fast. John closed his eyes and thought about it all. The kisses, the rush of adrenaline he had felt when Sherlock had touched him. It almost was too much for John to handle, but it was Sherlock. Despite everything, from his arrogance about his genius to the way it had felt when he had left him, John loved him. It was new to him, to feel this way about another man, but it seemed to make sense with Sherlock.

John turned over, hoping to find Sherlock. He hadn't felt any other warmth in the bed next to him, but he still had hoped. He found the bed empty as a part of him had thought it would be. Empty of a body, but there was still a note. He saw there was writing on one side, but when he turned it over there was different handwriting.

On one side, it looked like Sherlock's handwriting, unless it had changed since he had been gone. _John, maybe I'll be back by the time you wake up. I cant imagine you waking up soon after our...activities last night. I've just gone off to see Mycroft and to maybe stop by to visit Miss Adler. There's no need to worry about my meeting with Mycroft; he's just asked to see me and to talk about some specifics. I should be back rather soon. I love you, SH._

John couldn't help but smile at the words I love you followed by his initials. He looked at the clock to find it was already 1:47 PM. The smile slid off his face. Depending on when Sherlock had left, it could still be only a little bit since he did leave. Deciding not to worry too much about it, John turned the note over.

On this side, the handwriting was different. It looked more urgently written, as if the person wrote it in a hurry despite the many words. _Little John Watson, sleeping in the detective's bed. What a scandal. Can't say I'm not the tiniest bit jealous of you, he is rather attractive. Did you really think that I had gone for good? Silly rabbit. You should know by now that everything I do revolves around him. He and I are the same, you know? One on the side of angels, but only because of a few angels he knows. I think that a little more time with me can change him though. I took him away from you once before, I don't doubt that I can do it again. He's simply too fun for me to play with for me to let him go off with you so easily. I do love a good game, especially one where the stakes are so high. Don't take it personally, but you're too good for him. He needs someone like me, someone to keep him occupied. Come find him if you dare, but don't get caught in the web. Otherwise I won't let either of you go. JM._

John finished reading the note and grabbed anything he thought he would need as he ran out the door to get a hold of Lestrade and Mycroft.


	22. Chapter 22

John stormed into Lestrade's office, not bothering to knock or see if anybody else was in there already. "Lestrade!"

Greg looked up, startled completely at the disturbance. "John, wha- what's wrong?" He looked at John's attire, seeing that he was a mess.

"We need to go find Sherlock," John stated shortly and simply. He looked expectantly at the detective inspector to find him looking confused and bewildered. "Did Mycroft not tell you?" John resisted the urge to shout at him because the bottom line was that it wasn't Lestrade's fault that no one had bothered to keep him completely in the loop. "Here's the condensed version: Sherlock came back, he was never really dead, just out and about trying to eliminate all of Moriarty's henchmen to keep you, me, and Mrs. Hudson safe, but now apparently Moriarty isn't dead and he's taken Sherlock somewhere and now we've gotta go and find him." John found himself slightly out of breath after saying that mouthful of words.

The DI ran his hands through his hair and rested his face in his hands. "That's a lot of information for me to process all at once, John. I can accept that Sherlock's back, no problem. Despite the way he claimed to be a fraud, I've known him at his best and at his worst for far too long to actually think him a fraud and believe him to be dead. But Moriarty? How on earth would he even be alive, John? What's the proof that he's actually alive? I saw the body myself, and I doubt even Sherlock could have faked his death the way he did."

John sighed and practically threw the note at him. "I didn't think he could still be alive, and neither did Sherlock, but just read this! If Moriarty didn't write this, then maybe you can tell me who the hell did!" John's voice had escalated by now, out of frustration with Lestrade's lack of energy towards the situation.

Lestrade speed-read the note, pausing towards the end where Moriarty's initials were left. He looked up at John's face, seeing a mixture of scared and worried. "All right, let's go."

* * *

another really short chapter, so my deepest apologies! I just felt like writing a short little thing


	23. Chapter 23

Lestrade had made sure that Mycroft and his men were contacted, leaving John to wallow in his thoughts. He always worried about Sherlock, even in the most menial of cases, worried about something going wrong or unplanned and being fatal to Sherlock. But this, this was Moriarty. Moriarty wasn't just any other common criminal out for more money or trivial things like that. Moriarty was, in short, a mastermind. The only other man in the world that could have faked his own death in such a dramatic way. John had allowed himself to think about a life with Sherlock without Moriarty during the last 24 hours. Of course he knew that there was someone else out there, but he had felt confident that he and Sherlock could deal with anybody else.

It had been obvious that Moriarty would have taken Sherlock to any number of places, but a part of John knew, just knew, that Moriarty would take him to the pool. After all, that was where John himself had been taken in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was a different person, and John hoped that the differences had changed him for the better. As Lestrade and John sat in the car in silence, John could only wonder what was going through the DI's mind. Up until an hour or so ago, Lestrade had still thought Sherlock to be dead, Moriarty too. Sherlock was a blessing, but Moriarty brought only fear and uneasiness to both men.

John knew in his mind that when it all came down to it, Moriarty would act as he pleased. He could only wonder what mind stand in the way of that and whether they'd all be there when it was over. John cringed and felt his stomach turn into more knots as he thought of the awful possibility that he and Sherlock might be violently torn apart yet again and so soon.

The time in the car had passed as if in slow motion, but finally, after what in John's mind were hours, they were on the same street.

"I figured it'd be best if we didn't pull up directly in front of the building," Lestrade murmured as he motioned for John to get out of the car.

John nodded absent-mindedly. He didn't care how they got there; all that mattered was that they got there and when they got there. Quickly arriving, John hesitated only slightly to make sure that Lestrade was with him on the same page. The DI nodded curtly and trailed slightly behind the ex army doctor.

John slowly and quietly made his way through the building and towards the pool with one thought clearly ringing through his mind. Within minutes, John had found the room; it was quiet and appeared to be completely empty. John pushed a small voice to the back of his head that was whispering for John to turn back. He needed to find Sherlock and wouldn't let even a mastermind spider like Moriarty to separate the consulting detective and his faithful blogger again.

John entered the room, hand on his gun holster cautiously. His footsteps made a slight noise, and he immediately thought that one of them, Sherlock or Moriarty, would hear it and recognize it.

"Oh, John?" A voice echoed throughout the room. John spun around to find none other than the mastermind himself. "Glad to see you got my note." Jim Moriarty grinned as he crept up like the spider he truly was. "You're fairly important to my plan, and if you hadn't shown up, well..." His voice trailed off as John realized how close he really was. Before he could reach for his gun, something struck his head. "Well, I simply couldn't have gone through with this if it weren't for you, John," Moriarty whispered.


	24. Chapter 24

John's eyes opened slightly. He felt his head throbbing, but was a little shocked when he found his hands were tied. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. _Moriarty and the pool. _But one thing was for sure; John still didn't know where Sherlock was.

"Oh, John?" Moriarty's voice sang out through the empty room. "Are you awake yet?" His voice was vibrant, confident.

Suddenly, he could feel someone's presence behind him, their breath on the back of John's neck making the hairs stand straight.

"Are you ready to play with me, John?" Moriarty whispered in John's ear. "Sherlock wasn't playing nice, but I just know that you will." He laughed when John began struggling against his restraints. "They're there for a reason, John. I don't just tie people up without a purpose. What do you think I am, a mad man?"

Moriarty walked around John to see the struggle on his face. "Where's Sherlock?" John growled while he continued his fruitless attempts to escape.

Moriarty grinned ruthlessly, the smile spreading across his face but not reaching his eyes. "No, not yet, John. I can't reveal everything to you, especially when we haven't started playing yet."

He walked behind John again, his fingers lightly playing with the rope tied around John's wrists. "When you're ready to cooperate with me, perhaps you'll be kind enough to allow me to explain THE RULES!"

John didn't have to see the man's face to know that he was done waiting for John. "What rules?" John questioned, proud of himself for not letting the fear seep into his voice.

Moriarty chuckled almost soundlessly. "Glad to see you're ready, John. As I'm sure you remember, though perhaps not as clearly as your flatmate might, the last time we were all here together, the game was made for Sherlock," Moriarty's voice trailed towards the end of the sentence as if reminiscing. He cleared his throat rather loudly. "But Sherlock didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I did, so I thought that maybe you might like it if the tables were turned."

Moriarty slowly let John's wrists free and then looked at him face to face. "Just wait a moment, John, because here's the best part!" His eyes seemed to define excitement as he walked to the other side of the room. "And here's what we have for you, John." He pulled someone out behind him.

John knew there was no hiding his fear now, even though Sherlock looked as calm as ever.


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock's face was blank and emotionless, but when his eyes met John's, fear struck through him. Sherlock mentally cursed himself; after all, how could he have missed something so obvious? He and John stood there, as if frozen in time.

Moriarty looked at both of them. "What a touching moment when two lovers are reunited. Really brings out your faith in humanity, doesn't it?" His voice was mocking them, knowing that once again, he had gotten the upper hand on the consulting detective.

Sherlock forced himself to look away from his blogger. The difference in his eyes was almost frightening to Moriarty. He had looked at John with such love and emotion behind it, but at Moriarty, Sherlock's eyes had frozen over, giving him a slight chill.

"Now, now, Sherlock," Moriarty warned him. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I've spent a great deal of time orchestrating this nice little get together for us, and you will not SPOIL IT!" He forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn't good to lose control in front of his greatest adversary.

"Listen, uh, Moriarty," John started, his voice holding the slightest quiver. He stopped as he realized that he didn't have the slightest clue as to what to say. "Just, just tell us what you want us to do, tell us what this game of yours is."

Moriarty chuckled quietly. "Don't you see, John? You're far too simple minded for him. Too ordinary. I can't even fathom how you've made it this far with Sherlock, although from what I've been told, your reunion had been...eye-opening for both of you." Moriarty turned and winked at Sherlock. "However, I am terribly sorry to tear the two of you apart yet again. Actually," he paused. "I'm not sorry at all." A smile crept across his features.

"Moriarty," Sherlock said, his vice steady as a rock. "Leave John out of this. It's me that you want and everybody knows it." He took a tentative step towards the mastermind of the project.

"No!" Moriarty shouted. "Don't try and twist this, Sherlock. You and I have had this conversation before. He's holding you back. Think of what you and I could do if John wasn't in the picture." Moriarty's voice sounded desperate, almost pleading with the detective.

John was silently stepping closer to Moriarty, ignoring the fact that the man wouldn't hesitate in the slightest to kill the ex army doctor. Sherlock took notice of it and decided to hope against hope that Moriarty wouldn't become aware of him.

"This is between you and I, Moriarty. That's the bottom line here and it's fairly obvious," Sherlock said trying to distract him. "There's no need for you to involve anybody else."

"You don't get it, do you, Sherlock?" Moriarty laughed. "When he's here, there's nothing else for you, even you must know the effect he has on you." Moriarty paused and turned around pointing a gun straight at John's face. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"


	26. Chapter 26

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Moriarty's voice was unwavering as he steadied his hand and focused the gun in the center of John's forehead.

There was a look of worry that came upon Sherlock's features. He hadn't had previous worries about John's safety before, but now there was a gun pointed at his blogger. In Sherlock's mind, that was simply unacceptable. "Moriarty," Sherlock said, not bothering to hide the anger that seeped into his baritone voice. "I'm warning you now."

Moriarty laughed. "You're warning _me_? That's a hysterical thought, seeing how I'm in control here." He had walked in a half circle of sorts and was facing both of them, gun pointed at John and a significant amount of space between the two. "Even if you could do something, Sherlock, I need only a moment's time to pull the trigger. You wouldn't dare risk poor, ordinary John's life."

John swallowed nervously, looking back and forth, not wanting to take his eyes off Moriarty but needing to look at Sherlock. John wasn't new to fear, wasn't new to looking down the barrel of a gun and knowing the person on the other end wouldn't hesitate. But this was different. John had just gotten Sherlock back in his life, and the last thing either of them wanted was to be separated again, least of all by a bullet.

John's eyes were pulled almost magnetically and looked at Sherlock's hands. The consulting detective had moved his hands behind his back, and Moriarty had yet to take a break from his ranting to notice the sudden change in Sherlock's stance. Sherlock continued talking as he moved his right hand and appeared to be searching for something in particular.

John suddenly became aware of the gun that had seemed to get closer and closer. He noticed that Moriarty's hands were shaking slightly but were still pointing the gun clearly at John's head. Even with the shaking, there was no possible way that he could miss from the close proximity

Sherlock had found whatever he was looking for and was taking his time to keep his arm steady as he pulled it out. "Moriarty, I will warn you one more time," Sherlock said with a hint of confidence that he had the upper hand. "Lower the gun and it won't be my hands that tear you apart limb by limb."

Moriarty turned slightly to face Sherlock, letting one hand drop from the gun but leaving it upright still. "Mmm, I had been hoping that it would be you that'd tear me apart, Sherlock. I'm curious though to know what trick you're acting like you have up your sleeve right now."

Sherlock pulled out a gun for Moriarty and John to see. "This one," Sherlock said as he pointed it straight at Moriarty's chest.

There was slight surprise mixed with amusement on Moriarty's face. "Sherlock, Sherlock," he scolded. "I've already made myself clear, it only takes me a moment to shoot your precious John."

"You planted this gun on me in the first place, Moriarty, with the intent that I would use it. Certainly not against myself or John, which leaves me using it against you," Sherlock calmly explained, mostly for the purpose of breaking the silence.

A gun shot rang out, followed by another shot and a thud of a body hitting the floor.


	27. Chapter 27

Sherlock's eyes were shut tight, slightly unwilling to see whose body had fallen to the floor.

"Sherlock?" John's voice broke the silence. It sounded scared and weary.

Sherlock opened his eyes. "John?" He saw John knelt on the ground, his hands holding his leg. He rushed over to the doctor. "John, you're hurt," Sherlock said, annoyed with his obvious statement.

"No shit, Sherlock," John chuckled quietly. "Such a dreadfully obvious deduction for you. Anyway, I'm much better than Moriarty."

Sherlock turned to find Moriarty slumped on the floor, body crumpled with a gunshot wound in his forehead, the blood trickling down to the cold floor.

"You're welcome," a familiar voice said.

"Don't act so proud because you've done something right for once, Lestrade," Sherlock remarked.

Lestrade walked over to Moriarty, staring without a trace of remorse at the body. "You usually don't give me a chance, Sherlock." The DI crossed the short distance between the cold body and the ex-army doctor. "How are you, John?"

John removed his hands, only to hastily cover his wound back up, this time with material from his jacket. "Been better. Any chance there are paramedics here? Or at least some better materials than my coat?"

Lestrade nodded and left to get help.

John looked up at Sherlock. Even when both were sitting, the detective was still at least a head taller. "Sherlock," John began.

Sherlock immediately cut him off, pressing his lips against John's. The urgency was apparent, emotions pent up from the danger they had been in. "I was scared," Sherlock said in between kissing and breathing. "Scared of losing you, John."

John nodded as best as he could. "I know, Sherlock," John said, a bit distracted, trying to keep at least one hand on his wound and trying to pull Sherlock closer to him. "I was scared too."

John started kissing down Sherlock's neck, still trying to bring the younger man closer to him. Sherlock leaned in as far as he could, not wanting to cause any further damage to John's leg. The consulting detective let out a small moan unintentionally as John kept kissing.

Neither of them had noticed Lestrade walk back in. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, Sherlock? John?"

John looked up, face red from one of two possible reasons. Sherlock looked up, looking annoyed and irritated. "What, Lestrade?"

"Um, the paramedics are here, so John, you can, uh, get your leg checked out," Lestrade stammered as he ran his hand through his hair and looked around awkwardly.

Sherlock sighed and helped John to his feet. As John limped out of the room, Sherlock paused slightly as he passed Lestrade, as if he had something to say to the DI.

Lestrade just shook his head. "Not my division, Sherlock."

* * *

so I'm thinking this is it for this story, unless anybody wants an epilogue or something, in which case you should review! 3


	28. Chapter 28

It had been two months since Jim Moriarty had died. Sherlock and John had had a number of cases since then, but none quite so life threatening to either of them. The consulting detective and his blogger had settled back into a routine that was considered normal for the pair. Running around the whole of London, chasing after a criminal or two, forever chasing after the detective; what more could the ex-army doctor ask for?

Certain aspects between the two were different, of course. Since Moriarty's not-so-triumphant return and demise, it had been even clearer that they needed each other. Though Sherlock may have taken a little bit longer to admit, things had changed for the better between them.

Their relationship had taken a turn for the more physical, and that turned out to make them stronger as a whole. It had started out awkward at first, despite the fact that they had somewhat experimented right after The Woman had been attacked in their flat. They had started out quite hopeless, in fact. After a few times, it seemed like they had solved it.

It had reached a point where one could not distinguish where the detective ended and the doctor began. They had grown closer, emotionally and physically. Sherlock had already known that he needed John to an extent, but now the detective needed his presence almost every waking hour. John felt a connection to Sherlock that kept him rooted to 221B Baker Street.

The pair of them stayed there, together, content with each other and with solving their cases. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

* * *

this is a pretty crappy sort of epilogue, let me know if you like it, if you hate it, but please review anyway! 3


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